


Pathway to Paradise

by iwouldbemerry



Series: Escaping Paradise [2]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hacking, Kidnapping, Medical Trauma, Motorcycles, Psychological Drama, Romance, Spoilers, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwouldbemerry/pseuds/iwouldbemerry
Summary: This all started with a question:How on earth did Unknown get into a 14th floor apartment?Spoilers for the end of Zen’s Route, and a little of Seven’s, but not really. MC’s name is Alice, she’s a web developer/ project manager.
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character, Choi Saeran/Original Female Character(s), Zen | Ryu Hyun/Main Character, Zen | Ryu Hyun/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Escaping Paradise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162178
Kudos: 8





	1. The Window and the Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple of years ago well before any of dreamed we might actually be locked inside our apartments for weeks or months on end. Felt kind of fitting to dust it off.

The party was only a few days away, but everyone in the RFA had been working so hard to send her new contacts that she felt justified in taking a break for the evening. Plus, having replied to everyone’s opening inquiries so far, there wasn’t much she could do besides wait for them to get back to her.

The night sky had faded to a dull purple outside the windows of the apartment; freaky security systems aside, Rika had had excellent taste. The view from the fourteenth floor was unbeatable.

Rather than stare at her phone all evening, or watch a movie alone again before falling asleep, she made herself a cup of tea in the kitchen and then sat down at the computer. It had occurred to her the other day that, though she couldn’t leave the apartment for now, she could still hang out with the other RFA members virtually.

She knew better than to poke into the classified directories Rika had set up– or had Seven set up, more likely– but she figured if she poked around and set up her own partition on the hard drive, then she could download a couple of things to keep her occupied. A screensharing program to watch musicals with Zen and Jaehee, a news feed to keep up on the stories Jumin shared about his business trips, and an anonymizer to protect her location so that she could finally log into LOLOL and let Yoosung show her what was so damn obsessive about his beloved game. 

Adding her personal email to the client that fed Rika’s mail to her phone was something she had been meaning to do– she was sure the rest of her remote team was freaking out at her absence, though she had immediately signed out from the roster, claiming the whole week and a half until the party as ‘personal days.’ She was lucky she didn’t have a regular 9-to-5 job, good grief. There was no other way she’d have managed to just put the rest of her life on hold.  
Just a couple digital errands to run. She tucked her legs up into the seat and started typing.

A few hours later, she leaned back and stretched as far as she could without overbalancing. She cracked her neck to work out the kinks.

Maybe now she could get some slee–

CRASH!

It sounded like something had thrown itself against the windows behind her; she spun around in her chair, eyes wide. Could it have been a bird? She was certainly up high enough, but it had sounded bigger than that…

Through the gloom of night outside, she saw a dark blur approaching the window– there was another huge CRASH and she recoiled in her chair, shrieking– an explosion of wind and glass–

A black-clad figure with a shock of bleached hair landed on the floor.  
There was some kind of harness around his chest, like the kind Seven used for rappelling. The bottom half of his face was covered with a ski mask, though she could still see fierce pale eyes and that shocking hair and the sharp points of a tattoo reaching across his collarbone. His leather jacket glittered with powdered glass, and in his gloved hand he held a phone that was identical to her own. 

All of this she noticed in less than a second, her mind on overdrive with adrenaline as she curled, frozen, in her desk chair.

Oh, God. This had to be him. The one who’d set all this in motion, the one who’d been screwing with Seven’s systems.

Seven had to be seeing this on the CCTV, right?

She needed to stall for time, or get away, if possible. She started to open her mouth, but the man rose from his crouch and strode towards her.

“You can scream if you want,” he said in a surprisingly soft voice, “but we both know that nobody else lives in this building. Even the doorman went home for the night, so you’d just be wasting both of our time.”

“There are CCTV cameras all around this apartment, not to mention the alarms you’ve set off,” she said, proud that her voice wasn’t shaking. Where was her phone? “If you leave now, my organization won’t press charges.”

“That idiot didn’t bother alarming the windows,” he replied dryly. “Nobody’s stupid enough to break into a penthouse via the bulletproof fourteenth-floor windows, am I right?”

Shit. Was that true? 

“Wh- what do you want?” The wind rushed through the apartment, scattering papers and raising goosebumps on her bare skin; she shivered, wishing she were wearing more than just a camisole and cotton shorts.

“I told you I would come back for you, didn’t I?”

She flinched, remembering that strange message a week ago. He stepped closer, dragging the rope he’d swung in on behind him like tail. The glass caught under it and his heavy boots scraped and crunched.

Her knuckles tightened on the chair arms as he loomed over her, and leaned down, trapping her in her seat.

“You were chosen,” he said, close as a lover. “You’ve fulfilled your purpose here, but now you’re coming with me.”

“Chosen? Chosen for what? Who– who are you?”

“There’ll be time enough for that when you’re debriefed at Magenta. Come on, we’ve got things to do, you and I. Let’s go.”

She shrank back even further. “No! I’m not going anywhere with you. Even if you didn’t set off the alarms, there are still the cameras– someone will be here any minute–”

His eyes darkened. “If you don’t quit wasting my time, I’ll just set off the bomb. I can do it right now, if you keep fucking with me.”

“You’d kill yourself, too, you crazy–”

He laughed. As if they were actual friends, just hanging out.

He laughed.

“You still don’t get it, do you? After everything you’ve seen? After how I’ve shown you that I’ve been in control all along? I own Luciel’s systems, I’ve always been two steps ahead. But, most importantly…”

He crouched down in front of her chair and looked up at her with eyes filled with malicious amusement.

“What makes you think this is the only bomb?”

He tilted his phone screen to show her a white screen with the icons of the RFA; over her picture was stamped the word 'DISARMED’, but over the rest…

Yoosung: ARMED

Jaehee: ARMED

Jumin: ARMED

Seven: ARMED

Zen: ARMED

And, at the bottom, pulsing malevolently:

DETONATE Y/N?

She shook her head in disbelief. 

“It– it can’t be. Jumin’s security? Seven’s? There’s no way they wouldn’t have noticed something like–”

He sighed, turning the phone back towards his face. 

“I don’t particularly care if you believe I’m better than Seven,” he said– that was a lie, she could tell he very much did– “And Jumin, well, he bought the best security, or at least he thought he did. But, still.”

His eyes narrowed, and she could feel the icy anger rolling off him.

“Are you willing to bet Yoosung’s life that I’m wrong? What about Jaehee?”

His gloved hand shot out and grabbed her by the chin.

“What about… Zen?”

His thumb hovered over the screen, bending slowly down…

“Nnnoh God don’t!” She grabbed his hand. “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t hurt them. I’ll– I’ll cooperate. Okay? Please.”

“I knew you’d see it my way,” he said, standing up and tucking the phone back into his pocket.

He stretched one leather-gloved hand.

“Come with me.”

She hesitated, just for a moment, at the thought of taking his hand; it was a moment too long, evidently. His patience gone, the masked man grabbed her wrist and yanked her bodily out of the chair, dragging her across the room to the window.

After a few steps she felt a stabbing heat and stumbled, catching the edge of the gaping windowframe to steady herself.

Her gasp caused him to pause, and they both stared at her feet.

They oozed free-flowing streams of blood that were nearly black in the dim light of the city skyline; sticky pools trailed back across the carpet of broken glass he’d created earlier.

Her knees buckled from pain and shock, but he just swept her up in his arms.  
“You’re gonna wanna hold on,” he said, and she felt the heat of his breath through the mask.

Right before she could ask hold on to what, he stepped up onto the sill. She barely had time to wrap her arms around his neck before he stepped off the edge, smiling under his mask at the sound of her scream.

The descent was only controlled enough that he didn’t break his legs upon landing, but the impact was still forceful enough that she gasped again and flinched into him.

“Hold on,” he drawled, and removed the hand at her back just long enough to unclip his harness from the rope. Still carrying her, he strode across the dark, soft lawn to the parking lot, stopping in front of enormous black motorcycle, all gleaming pipes and pantherlike curves.

Before she could even begin to protest, he had dumped her roughly on the back of the bike and climbed on himself. He picked up a featureless black helmet.

“If you make a fuss, I’ll set off a bomb. If you try to escape, or call attention to yourself in any way, I’ll set off a bomb. If you fall off, I’ll detonate them all.”

She was silent with horror.

He turned around. “Do you understand?”

Dumbly, she nodded, eyes glittered with tears.

“Good girl,” he said, eyes glinting. He put on the helmet.

She wanted to die. This was not possible. This could not be happening.

This had to be a nightmare, it had to be–

Tears began to drip down her bloodless cheeks as she, shuddering, wrapped her arms around his waist. Her feet were so slick with blood that even when she tried to brace them on the footrests they slipped off, so she locked the muscles in her thighs and prayed, prayed that it would be enough.

The bike snarled to life, leaping forward as he gunned the engine, and they streaked off into the night.


	2. Night Drive

Neon lights and black shadows smeared her vision. After a while, she just closed her eyes, though tears still squeezed themselves out. The ride seemed to last hours, but it was still well before dawn when they growled to a halt at the top of the driveway of a beautiful, albeit dilapidated, Victorian mansion.

“We’re here.”

He dismounted the bike, seeming even more energized than before. He practically tossed his helmet to the ground before turning to her.

“Hurry up,” he said, almost snarling. She sat up slowly and swung one leg over the seat, but she had lost more blood than she’d thought and faltered, swaying and unbalanced.

He did snarl, then, and picked her up like before; this time, though, she was too faint to be tense and her arm draped bonelessly around his neck. Her eyelids fluttered. Her head was too heavy to even hold up, and her cheek rested against the leather of his jacket.

Blessedly, she began to drift out of consciousness, but before she was completely out, he whispered three words into her ear:

_Welcome to Paradise._


	3. Walk This Way

Alice drifted through the world until she settled in a room with glaring fluorescent lights and walls that soared up into darkness. Everything had fizzing rainbow edges; her head swam, and everything was too loud, too rough, and too sweet.

Sharp aches swelled at the crook of her elbow, at her wrists and feet. Focusing on the pain seemed to dial the rest of the world back a little, so she did.

Like a lens snapping onto a camera, the world suddenly shifted into clarity. The pain at her feet was from the glass, she remembered that now. She turned her head with difficulty, and saw that her wrists were zip-tied to the metal rails of a hospital bed. Her arm sprouted a thin plastic tube from a needle buried in her flesh; somewhere out of sight, something cold and slow drip-drip-dripped, feeding god knows what into her veins.

No wonder everything was fuzzy.

“That must have been a nice nap,” said a soft voice out of her line of sight. It sounded faintly jealous, and unfortunately familiar. “They gave you the good stuff– I bet you barely even remember what happened.”

Her vision narrowed; her heartbeat skyrocketed. Him.

“Haha,” he laughed, in a low, sing-song voice. He strolled over, hands in his pockets, to sit by her side. “I guess you do remember me." 

She pressed her lips together until she was sure she could speak without her voice betraying her. She didn’t look at him at all, keeping her eyes trained on the shadowed ceiling.

"I will never forget you,” she said coldly. “What is all this? What are you doing with me?”

She could feel him grinning. It took everything in her not to shudder.

“Right now, I think we’re just watching you,” he drawled. “You lost a lot of blood, which complicated things.”

He propped his motorcycle boots up on the bed railing, almost on top of her hand, pointing to the fluid dripping through the tube in her arm with one steel-plated toe.

“As for this– this is saline. See above, blood loss. And the expensive painkillers, you lucky thing. I think before that it was sodium pentothal. Before you woke back up we were poking around in your head, trying to find out more about your precious RFA.”

“Wh- what?” Surely she hadn’t heard him right. “You.. my head–”

Tears welled in her eyes. Her only knowledge of the chemical came from cop shows, but she knew what it was for. She turned her head, meeting his eyes for the first time.

Alice’s heart sank. He wasn’t wearing the mask any more, which was a bad sign. He didn’t care if she could identify him. Without the masking fabric, she could see the hectic flush in his cheeks and the cruel twist to his eyes. He looked half dead under the unkind glow of the fluorescent lights, and like he didn’t much care one way or the other if he was.

There was something strange about his face– and it wasn’t the angry, desperate tension in his jaw, either.

Something strange– strangely familiar.

“D- Did I–” Her voice caught, and she swallowed, hard, trying to regain control.   
“What did I say?”

He cocked his head, almost birdlike. 

“A lot of really interesting things,” he said slyly, “though not as many helpful things. I guess that means you don’t know shit about the classified stuff. Maybe they don’t trust you as much as you thought.”

He swung his feet down and dragged his chair closer, across the tile floor. Folding his arms on the railing like he was sitting at a schooldesk, he propped his head in his hands and looked at her through the ragged fringe of his bleached-out hair.

The combination of artlessness and sociopathy was startlingly creepy. Her stomach turned over as he stared at her.

“You promised to cooperate, remember?” He was nearly whispering. “There’s no turning back now. We’re so close, now that you’re here.”

“Close to what?” she asked. “The party? What do you want from me that you couldn’t do yourself? You already proved– you were inside Seven’s systems from the beginning. You hacked my phone days ago. before this all started. You could have gotten to me whenever you wanted, gotten to the RFA whenever you wanted. Why wait? What was the point of all this?”

He rolled his eyes and sat back up.

“So many questions,” he sighed. “If you’re that lucid, I guess we can start.”  
He pulled a wicked-looking knife out of a trouser pocket and flicked the bade out with a snick.

She froze.

“I’m gonna cut the zip-ties,” he said casually. “We’ll take out the saline drip for now, too; walking with one of those is a pain in the ass.”

He locked eyes with her. “Remember,” he said sternly, “you promised to behave. If you fuck with me, I’ll blow up one of your friends. You’re too important to damage, for now, but your friends will pay if you don’t do as you’re told, or if you try to escape, or– hell, if you piss me off in any way, I’ll detonate one of the bombs. It’s not like there aren’t spares. You’ve got a lot to lose still, you know.”

He slid the blade between the plastic and the rail and popped it up, snapping the tie, then leaned bodily over her to get the one on the other side. She lay there, eyes closed, as he peeled up the tape over the needle and unsheathed it smoothly from her skin, pressing a gauze pad to the spot and folding her arm up over it as if he’d done this before.

Maybe he had.

She pushed herself up with her other arm, her hair falling in tangles over her shoulders and around her neck. She noticed with dull horror that she wasn’t wearing her own clothes any more– the black camisole and soft cotton shorts from the day before had been replaced by a nearly sheer, sleeveless white garment that fell to halfway down her thighs, halfway between hospital gown and virgin sacrifice. 

Shakily, she ran her hand through her hair, trying to get it out of her face.  
The bedside rail clanked down beneath the mattress, and, wincing, she swung her legs over the side. Her feet were white with bandages and gauze, so stiff she might have been wearing shoes.

She had barely pressed her toes to the floor when they flared with pain, even with the bandages.

He saw the look on her face and scooped her up again, astonishingly careful of her feet.

“Wait,” she said, panicking, hands fluttering. “I can walk, I can–”

He stalked out the door and down the hall as if he barely noticed her weight.  
“Walk, my ass,” he snapped. “Your feet are still fucked up, and this is faster. Stop squirming.”

She tucked her hands against her chest and wished she could turn to stone. She had never had a panic attack before, but the raggedness of her breath seemed indicative that she’d break that record any time if she didn’t calm down.

She had to stay alive. She had to survive this. This was bigger than just the RFA, just the party, just herself.

The hacker was so angrily dismissive of the RFA, especially Seven, but she knew– she hoped– that Seven was better than he was giving him credit for. If she could stay alive, and give away as little as possible without angering him too much, then she had faith that they would come for her.

That… that Zen would come for her.

_oh god zen oh god god he must be going out of his mind he could hurt himself he could get hurt again all because of her all her fault oh god i don’t want you here but i want you to save me but no you no no oh god–_

No. No. She couldn’t think about him now. She’d fall apart for real, and though she still didn’t know exactly what was going on, her survival– maybe even the survival of the RFA– depended on her being about to think and react logically to whatever came her way.

The panic and sorrow still threatened to overwhelm her, so she made a deal with herself. If she was ever left alone, she could think about Zen then. But not in front of _him_. No way.

He had enough power over her already. She’d rather die than give him any more.

They turned a corner into a hallway that was much better lit– she could see old wood panelling on the walls, ragged curtains nailed up over what were probably windows, and faded squares and jagged holes where pictures had hung once. That seemed to fit with what she remembered of the outside of the mansion: a beautiful building once, but sunk into ruin and abandonment.

She hadn’t known there were any houses like this anywhere near the city, and wished she’d been stronger, wished she’d seen more of their route here. Too late now.

He stopped his long, sure stride so suddenly that she flinched and looked up: they stood in front of an ornate doorway carved from wood and framed by two men in SWAT gear and masks identical to the one the hacker had worn before.

“Open up,” the man ordered, all hint of play absent from his steely voice.

Her eyes flickered over the guards and then away, her cheeks heating. She hated being carried like this, though she had to admit her feet would not have held her. Surely they had wheelchairs, if they had other medical equipment. Just another way to keep her off her guard, she thought bitterly as the hacker carried her into the room. 

She hoped it was just that.


	4. Let's Play

More computer screens lined the walls, but at the end of the dusty room hulked a huge wooden desk and leather chair like something out of a movie. It was this he carried her to, gently settling her into the seat. 

Atop the desk sat dual monitors, a keyboard, and mouse, all top-of-the-line equipment. The man hopped up on the desk and sat next to them, leaning back on the heels of his hands.

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” he said, grinning. 

“That asshole Luciel changed all of his shit after last night. It’s all nothing I can’t eventually break through, of course, but the party is in nine hours. Also, the layers of security are all deliberately coded to you. Stuff you know. Your past. Stupid fucking inside jokes with the fucking RFA. So, you’re going to unlock all the little layers, unwrap that data you’ve collected like a nice, shiny present for Magenta. Okay?”

She stared at the computer, but there was nothing she could think of to say.

“Okay,” she said softly. 

“I have a question, though.”

“Is this you stalling?” he asked, pulling out his phone. 

“Because I was pretty clear about you wasting my time.”

Her eyes were glued to his hand as she replied, fighting to keep her voice even, submissive.

“What’s your name? You know everything about me, but I’m not gonna just call you "the hacker” for the next nine hours.“

He smiled. "You don’t like ‘Unknown?’”

Her lips tightened. “This isn’t the nineties, and that’s not even a username.”

“Fine,” he said, brow creased. “I suppose you can call me _Saeran.”_

He watched her carefully, but she just nodded and looked back at the screen.

“Nice to meet you, I guess,” she said absentmindedly as she logged on.

It looked like a cross between the screen of the computer in Rika’s apartment and the messenger app, with little glowing padlock icons stamped everywhere.  
She glanced back up at him; he looked a little confused.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re really just gonna get to work?” he asked. “Just like that?”

“Um. Yes?” Where was the problem? She was doing what he asked, wasn’t she?

The first question popped up when she clicked on the first lock.

“I mean, you’ve made it really clear what’ll happen if I don’t.”

It was a question about Yoosung’s LOLOL guild.

She typed the answer in, trying to keep her face blank.

“You only met the RFA a week ago,” he snapped. “How are they this important to you already?”

Her fingers stilled over the keys as she turned to glare at him.

“I don’t really expect you to understand or even care, Saeran.” she said, as coolly as possible. 

“I would do this for anybody, if their life was in danger and there was something I could do to help. I’d rather die than help you, but that’s not an option, apparently. I don’t know why you or Magenta or whoever set this all in motion; it doesn’t matter than I’ve known them only a couple of days. They’re my friends." 

She turned back to the screen deliberately. 

"Now, are you gonna sit there and keep distracting me from our mutual deadline, or are you gonna let me work?”

“I don’t believe it,” Saeran said flatly. “I don’t believe even you’re that sentimental.”

He shook his head as if disgusted and hopped off the desk. “Whatever. Get to work. There are cameras in this room and trained on that screen, plus the guards outside. I need a fucking drink.”

Huh. Was he really that rattled, or did he just think she was stupid?

“I could kill for some coffee,” she murmured, “if you’re offering.”

He snorted and kept walking.

“I’ll be back soon.”

By that time he was nearly at the door, too far away to see her fingers shake as she started mousing across the rows of locked icons. God, Seven, what the hell– there were more than a hundred prompts for different answers. Even if she knew all the answers, it would take her right up until the party just to type them all in!

She hoped that was the point, stalling for time for them to find her. She hoped she had guessed correctly about what he was trying to do. She hoped they would realize she had no choice but to help the– help Saeran.

The door slammed shut, leaving her alone in the shadows.

Seven’s security wasn’t all just question and answer. Some of it was little puzzles and rhythm games, or little movie clips with questions after. She realized that if she missed a question, she’d have to start over, and guessed that more than a few misses would probably trigger a wipe of the entire thing. 

She worked for fifteen minutes, assuming that he was watching her on the cameras to make sure she behaved. 

She would, if it were her.

Only when she was sure Saeran wasn’t waiting outside to catch her out did she pause, taking her hands from the keyboard.

 _Zen and the RFA must be out of their minds right now,_ she thought, wrapping her arms around her bare shoulders. _Oh, my God, he was so angry at Seven and V before, when it was just the bomb…What are we going to do?_

She was so, so glad that the whole thing with Echo Girl was more or less over. There was still the press conference, but she had faith that would all work out.

_Is it selfish of me to be glad he doesn’t have two women complicating his life right now? Is it selfish for me to want to survive, if only so that at least one person in his life doesn’t disappoint him?_

_Would he be proud of me?_

_Or disappointed that I gave in so easily?_

_God, I wish he was here._

The thought was sudden and sharp as a knife, and even though she knew it was terrible, and weak, to wish he was here with her in the lair of the enemy, she couldn’t help it. At least she wouldn’t be so alone.

No. She was glad, fiercely glad that he was safe; God knows what would have happened if he had intercepted Saeran at the apartment. He was alive, he was safe, and that was all that mattered for now.

Mindful of the cameras, and Saeran’s earlier promise to check back in, she allowed herself another long moment of horror and agonizing hope–

And then got back to work.

The RFA was counting on her, Zen was counting on her, and she wasn’t going to let them down.


	5. Sweet Dreams

It started out such a lovely dream.

_He was on the roof with Alice, watching her watch the sky, the moonlight silvering her hair until they could have been twins. Her eyes were bright with happiness– to be out of that apartment after several days straight, and to be with him. He hoped._

_He knew._

_When he looked at her, his leg didn’t hurt at all, and all the drama of the last few days– his injury, dropping out of that role, and everything, everything he was afraid of– it all faded away._

_He looked up at the night sky, overwhelmed with the force of his feelings. He wanted her to come over every day, wanted her to always be there laughing when he sang songs and danced down the grocery aisle, wanted to cook for her and hang out with her at the end of a long day. He wanted her, and no one else._

_It was hard to believe he hadn’t known she existed last week._

_He looked back, mouth opening to tell her how he felt–_

_They weren’t outside anymore. He couldn’t see the stars, and the only light gilding her long dark hair streamed in from a window across the dark room, glass shattered and scattered like broken teeth. A dark figure loomed over her as she shrank away in fear._

_Sharp pain– dripping blood– a howling wind– she screamed his name–_

DANGER!

Zen woke up with a headache worse than he’d had in years, gripping his phone so tight the screen almost cracked in his hand. He sat up, grimacing and pinching the bridge of his nose–

Oh, God. Alice.

Hands shaking, he called her number, holding his breath as he waited for her to pick up. Even if she growled at him sleepily for waking her up again, he wouldn’t mind, just as long as she was safe.

The phone rang, and rang.

There was a click, and then he heard her voice, cheerful and not annoyed at all. For a moment he relaxed– but it was only the voice mail.

He texted her, then logged onto the chatroom to see if she was there– no one was, it was after midnight. The screen in his hand was blank and empty.

Something was wrong.

He called Seven, using the exercises he’d taught himself before going on stage to regulate his breathing. She might just have her phone on silent. He was probably completely overreacting.

But the dream, the headache– he hadn’t felt like this since… Rika. And before that, his accident. 

The phone beeped against his ear and he pulled it away, startled. Seven was calling him.

“Zen, look–”

Seven’s voice sounded strained, but he cut him off anyway.

“Look, Luciel, something’s wrong. I don’t care if you don’t believe me but I had a dream that she was in danger and then I tried calling her and texting and she–”

“Zen,” Seven said, raw with pain even over the phone. “I know. I– I saw.”

“Saw what? Dammit, Luciel, what’s wrong?”

“Somebody– somebody broke into the apartment,” he mumbled. “Zen, I’m sorry, I didn’t think it could be done, but–”

Zen’s voice was icy as he grabbed his jacket and keys and headed to the door.

"Text me the address right now.“

He slammed the door shut behind and sprinted up the steps to the parking lot, ignoring Seven’s protests. When he got to his parking space, though, he stopped so suddenly he nearly tripped, and only then did what his friend was trying to say break through his concentrated rage.

"It’s no use. Zen. The hacker, the one who’s been behind all this from the beginning… he didn’t just break in. He took Alice. Zen, can you hear me?”

“Come pick me up,” Zen said flatly, staring at his empty parking space and trying to keep himself calm.

“Pick you up? But what about–”

“My bike is gone,” he snapped. “The bastard stole it. Come get me now; we have no time to waste.”

He punched the ‘end call’ icon so hard he nearly splintered the screen and stood there in the darkness, waiting.

_Alice. I’m coming. Hold on._


	6. Made For This

Seven’s hands started to tremble if he stopped typing for too long– a wicked cocktail of sleep deprivation, caffeine, adrenaline, guilt, and panic– so he just… hadn’t stopped.

Alice had been abducted nearly four hours ago, and Zen was wearing a track in his living room, prowling like the beast he always pretended not to be. He hadn’t spoken at all, since Seven had picked him up from his apartment, standing in the parking lot like he’d been stabbed.

Seven had never seen him like this before, never.

Wrenching his mind back to his computer screens, he continued creeping slowly into the system of the enemy. Layer by layer, though she was God only knew how many miles away, possibly injured, and certainly terrified, Alice helped him gain access, find her– even if she didn’t realize that’s what she was doing.

As soon as he had realized what had happened, he’d immediately gone into Rika’s systems and the messenger, too, reconfiguring the security access codes into a hundred-level puzzle he’d designed a couple of days ago, bored with his current job and poking through Alice’s history. He hadn’t expected to ever use it– it was just a game, a game designed for the RFA, for Alice– but now, he would use it to find her.

The game was designed to chip away at the enemy’s security; each new layer gave him a little bit more access to their system. Eventually, he would either find something incriminating or something about their location– Alice didn’t even have to finish the game for them to be able to save her, and in the meantime, the way the game could only be solved by her would keep her… useful, valuable, to whoever had taken her. 

Safe. Unharmed. Alive.

“Hold on, Alice,” he whispered, watching new strings of codetext shift form and decode themselves. “Please, hold on. We’re coming.”


	7. Final Round

Alice rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, resisting the urge to put her head down on the desk. The chill of the musty air helped her stay awake, but only a little: she was not sure she could remember the last time she’d been this tired.

Three hours in, sitting at this desk, and only about thirty percent of the questions were answered. She supposed she was lucky she hadn’t had to start over, or that she’d already known or been able to puzzle out the various trivia questions, since it wasn’t as if she could just hop on Wikipedia with the system locked up tight.

She rested her head on her hand and clicked on the next question.

The handle to the door rattled as Saeran unlocked it, the booming thud shattering the relative silence as he kicked it shut behind himself, sauntered over to her desk, and sat on top of it again.

“How’s it coming?”

“I’m, um, still working on it.” She looked him in the eye, briefly, then her gaze flicked back to the screen. There were still a lot of little glowing locks hovering over sections of the screen; her progress had looked rather more impressive before he’d come back.

He set a brightly-colored plastic cup and a fat red straw down on the table.  
“Here,” he said. “You need the sugar or you’re going to crash, and that would suck for everybody.”

It would have been undignified to cry over coffee, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t close to tears as she lunged for the still-cold iced latte, stabbing the straw through the film on the top and inhaling half the contents in one long draft. Her hands wrapped around the cup; she willed the cold to shock her awake and keep her there. 

If she didn’t look her hands, she could pretend they weren’t shaking.

“You know,” he said seriously, “I’m starting to see why they’re all in love with you.”

She coughed and nearly spat coffee all over her keyboard.

Her voice rasped. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, just look at you,” he said, gesturing with a pale hand at where she sat defensively in front of the monitor. “I mean, you’re injured, exhausted, and well in over your head, but you’re still trying to help them. Why do you care? What have they ever done for you? I mean, you had no idea what this would turn into when you agreed to help– you could have just told me to go to hell, but you didn’t.”

He sucked on the straw of his own drink– bubble tea, it looked like– and waggled his eyebrows ironically.

God, she was so not awake enough for this shit.

Alice wrapped her arms around herself and leaned as far away as she could in her chair.

“I don’t really know what you want me to say,” she said, after a long pause. “You didn’t believe me before, not that it matters. Plus, it’s not like I’m not getting anything out of this, myself. There’s a better chance of me living if I help you, even if I didn’t care about anyone else–”

The air was split with howling klaxon horns and blinding flashes of light; Alice clapped her hands to her ears, recoiling; she hadn’t even noticed the alarm box over the door.

Her computer screens started pixellating and glitching as if possessed. 

“What the–” Saeran tossed his drink away and turned one of the screens to face him, lips moving as he scanned the unresponsive screen.

For a second, he looked as if he’d seen a ghost, but the fear in his eyes was replaced immediately by an ugly, dark anger.

“Luciel,” he spat, dripping with venom.

Saeran spun around , pinning her to the back of the chair; she tried to push away, but she’d forgotten her feet; her wounds were on fire, as if she was slicing them open all over again. Tears sprang to her eyes– she was trapped.

“How did you do it, huh?” He was right in her face, eyes snapping with rage. 

“How did you help him? Did you give him some kind of backdoor into Magenta’s systems– my systems?”

“No,” she said, gasping with pain. “No, I didn’t do anything." 

She turned her face away from him as his grip tightened.

"I swear,” she said, panicking, “I was just– just unlocking the security, I wouldn’t even know how to–”

“You’re lying,” he said, then paused, eyes widening. “Unless– No.”

Saeran let go of her shoulders, but turned to the computer screen, tapping a few keys and pulling up some kind of dialogue box. He scanned the results intently for a few moments before going pale with shock and anger.

“No,” he hissed, “not again– No!”

Alice couldn’t see whatever it was that he had found; he swept the electronics off the desk and sent them to the floor with a resounding crash. He leaped off the desk, barely containing his anger, then took out his phone and stabbed at the screen with shaking fingers.

Before Alice could even realize what was happening, he had swiped his thumb across the 'DETONATE’ screen without any hesitation– selecting every single icon.

“Oh, God– No!”

She was halfway across the desk grabbing for his phone before she even felt the pain, but he just held the phone out of her reach. He glanced at the screen, mouth tight, before slipping it into his pocket.

“Worth a try,” he muttered, only then seeming to notice Alice crumpled, distraught, at the desk.

“What is going on?” she said, voice shaking, slumping back in the chair as he rounded the table. “Why did you–”

He pulled her to her feet, ignoring her sharp inhale of pain. “My systems were compromised from the inside,” he snapped, picking her up again as he headed for the door. “Every layer of security you unlocked gave that fool deeper access. Our location’s already been compromised, so we’re out of here.”

The hallway was a horrorshow of flickering alarm lights and the sharp scent of ozone as he half-sprinted through the maze of corridors. Still reeling from the panic of watching him try to set off the bombs, as well as the relief that it hadn’t worked, Alice wondered if this all meant that the RFA was here, if she’d given them enough time. She could feel her feet throbbing, as well as the bruises forming from where he’d grabbed her shoulders.

Being carried like this only drove the point home; she was so tired of feeling helpless.

After taking an elevator up a few stories, he stopped at a large meta door and punched a code into the touchpad to open it.

The garage was mostly empty, though Alice wasn’t sure if everyone else had fled, or if the mysterious organization was simply smaller than he’d made it sound. The bike, gleaming and black under the overhead lights, hunkered in a corner by the exit. She wondered what he intended to do, now that he couldn’t control her with the lives of the RFA.

“Excuse me,” said a voice from behind them, silvery but steelier than she’d ever heard it. “But I think you have something of mine.”

Her heart jumped as Saeran spun around, and she couldn’t help the wobbly grin from spilling across her face.

Zen.

Saeran snorted. 

“Oh, please,” he drawled icily. “You’re pathetic, Mr. White Knight, if you think this lame fairy-tale rescue’s enough to save your princess.”

Alice could feel his hands tightening on her arm and leg; if she survived, she’d definitely have bruises there, too. She almost didn’t care; she drank in the sight of Zen like water in the desert. 

“Actually,” he said, arms crossed sternly over his chest– ever the consummate performer, good God– and sounding surprisingly calm, “I was talking about my bike. Alice belongs to herself.”

Oh my god she was blushing this was so not the time but GOD what a thing to say–

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Saeran muttered, glancing back at the bike. Did he think he could still get away?

“You’ll be worse than sick if you don’t let Alice go immediately,” Zen said. He had moved forward while Saeran was distracted; though he still sounded calm, the heat in his eyes betrayed the depth of his anger. 

“Let her go. Now.”

Then, as if they were the only two in the room, Zen looked her in the eyes and smiled.

“Hey, babe,” he said softly. “Sorry I took so long.”

“Better late than never,” she mumbled, still grinning like a fool. Her grin faded as she remembered the bombs. “Is everyone okay?”

“God, enough,” Saeran hissed, suddenly shifting. “You really ought to worry about yourself right now.” He dropped her legs and moved so that her neck was locked in a chokehold. She gasped, scrambling to catch her balance; her hands on his arm were barely enough to support her weight, and her feet were starting to bleed through their bandages. His arm across her airway tightened– she could barely breathe.

“Back off,” he said, edging back towards the bike, dragging her back with him.

Zen snarled. Backlit by the flickering alarm lights, Alice had never really noticed how tall he was before.

Then again, he had never been this threatening.

“Never gonna happen. Let her go!”

Alice could feel Saeran’s heartbeat increase. She heard the shuffle of leather and cloth, the telltale metallic click by her ear–

Zen’s face drained of blood.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the gun and froze.

“I said,” Saeran hissed, “Back. Off.”

In the space between heartbeats, she realized that there was no way this was going to end well. After everything that had happened, everything they’d been through–

No.

She had promised to help the RFA, and she always kept her promises.

Alice twisted her head and sank her teeth into the exposed flesh of Saeran’s arm.

The next few moments were a blurry sequence she was never quite able to remember:

Blood in her mouth– searing pain in her feet– the scrape of concrete as she fell– Zen and Saeran both shouting– the gun skittering across the floor– a single shot, echoing endlessly–

The next thing she knew, she was in a man’s arms, watching the city scroll past.

She let out a strangled shriek.

“Nnnoohgodgetoff–”

“Alice, it’s me, babe, it’s okay!”

Zen’s smooth voice brought her back to reality; she had half-lunged, half-fallen off his lap before realizing that it was him and not… Saeran. 

“God, Zen,” she said shakily, “I knew waking up to you would be a lot to handle, but this is ridiculous.”

And then she buried her head in his chest and cried. She thought she deserved the indulgence, after the night she’d had. And this time, when he wrapped her in his arms, the only thing she felt was safe and loved.

“We really need to get you to a hospital,” he murmured into her hair a few minutes later. “Have a doctor look at your feet. Get you into bed.”

“Yes,” she replied dryly, wiping her face on his shirt, “I’m sure you’d like that. But– wait a minute, what time is it?”

“Lemme check.”

His long legs lifted them both off the leather car seat for a second as he dragged his phone out of his back pocket. “10:00 am,” he said wearily. “God, what a night. I could sleep forever.”

“We can sleep after the party,” she said sternly, twisting around in his lap to face him. “This is too important to miss– all our guests will be there, not to mention your press conference!”

He looked at her, smiling in disbelief and amusement. “Babe, you’ve got to be kidding. The only place you’re going is the hospital, and then home with me when they release you.”

She tucked the delicious thought away for later perusal– _home with Zen, home with Zen_ – but shook her head.

“One of the reasons I was first attracted to you was how seriously you took your career,” she told him as she looked earnestly into his eyes. “But I’m a professional, too, remember? My career is important to me, just like yours is to you. Last night was awful, I admit it. It’s going to take me a long time to get over everything that happened in the last 24 hours– 48 hours– no, we’ll just say the last week. Okay?”

She put her hands on both sides of his head, noticing that they were still shaking a little.

“I’m serious,” she said gently. “We can do this, and more importantly, we need to. Your fans deserve the truth, and, to be completely honest and momentarily selfish, I deserve to go to a party, especially when I’ve worked this hard to make sure everything would run smoothly.”

“You’re sure?” His beautiful eyes were full of concern and guilt– she’d deal with that later– but also admiration and a fair bit of pride. “What about your feet?”

“They’re fine,” she lied, “just text Jaehee to set up a table with the nametags at the entrance. I can sit there to welcome everyone, and none of them will ever know what happened.”

He leaned back against the seat, drawing her back with him. “My girlfriend is the bravest person,” he announced to the back of Jumin’s limousine. “She is also gorgeous, talented, and entirely too cool to hang out with me.”

“She also really needs a makeover,” Alice muttered, smiling into his chest, “especially if we’re going to make this party on time.”

Zen gasped dramatically, whipping out his phone and texting one-handed at the speed of light.

“If we weren’t already dating,” he said seriously, “that would have sealed the deal. My makeup team will meet us at the party with my stylist. You’re gonna knock 'em dead, babe. We both are.”

“I thought we already did,” she deadpanned, to which he laughed delightedly.

She sighed and snuggled into his chest. “We do make a great team, though.”

“Yes,” he replied. “We really do.”

_The end._


End file.
